Interlude
by Allicat9
Summary: What sin hath man wrought? There is a change coming and the past and present will soon collide. A Last Court story that has been in my head for a while. Reviews are always welcome!
1. Chapter 1

_What hath man's sin wrought?_

_He dreams of the Shame. _

_A man with the same dark eyes that all de Serault's share. A man who stands alone atop the Tower of Lights, looking out over his land with affection. _

"_I will change it." He whispers, and the wind seems to catch the words and carry them off across Serault, "I will change it for the better. It is mine, and I will change it."_

_Something twitches behind his eye. _

Christophe awoke in a cold sweat. He glanced around, his dark eyes sweeping his chambers quickly, looking for anything even slightly out of place. Seeing nothing, he collapsed back onto his bed, lifting his hands to cover his face.

_That dream again._ He thought, his chest still heaving. The Shame, alive again, walking the Fade, walking _his_ Fade. Christophe swallowed thickly. His mother would be beside herself if she knew her son was seeing her grandfather in his sleep. The family already had enough problems, seeing the damned dead in one's sleep was something none of them needed. He didn't want to linger on his nightmare, and he turned over, trying to get comfortable once again.

Now was no time for sleepless nights and musings of the Fade he thought, as he drifted off to sleep. The Great Hunt was beginning tomorrow, and though Christophe was no great hunter as the eldest child of the Marquis, he was expected not only to attend, but to participate.

_And don't forget, tomorrow marks the arrival of that silly little countess Mother seems so keen on you marrying._ The nasty little voice in the back of his head reminded him. Christophe sighed as he stared up at his bed hangings. His mother was becoming rather desperate. Here he was, nearly thirty, and steadfastly unmarried. It was a bit peculiar for a man in his position, he'd be the first to admit, but he saw no reason to rush into a marriage that would, in the end, cause both parties a great deal of strain and unhappiness.

Christophe sighed again and rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer to the Maker for a dreamless sleep. There was no use worrying. What would come would come.

_She dreams of the Shame. _

_He sits at her mother's place at the grand table. She can feel his dark eyes, (eyes she shares) upon her. She moves swiftly, years of running around the forest have quickened her reflexes, but she does not move swiftly enough. He can see her, even crouched behind a pillar. He can sense her as she can him. _

"_Come here child."_

_His voice is warm, but the sound of it makes her blood run cold. _

"_I will not harm you. I only wish to speak with you."_

_At this, she can no longer contain herself._

"_Back foul demon!" she spits, "I will hear none of your lies. My heart is closed to your promises."_

_The man's voice sounds perturbed. "I am no demon."_

"_You ruined us." She hisses from her hiding place._

_And then the dream dissolves. _

When Danielle woke, she remembered nothing of her dream. The dawn had barley peaked over the forest before she was dressed, bow in hand and crossing the river towards the trees. She was a huntress at heart, not a lady, and she would hunt on the day of the Great Hunt, no matter what mother's wishes were.

Mother. There was a problem. Danielle frowned as she stomped through the underbrush, taking no time to cover her trial or quiet the noise she was making. Mother had been a huntress in her day as well. Many times Danielle had sat on her father's lap by the fire and listened as Mother regaled them with stories of wild boar chases and daring run-ins with noble stags.

Had not mother a scar on her ribcage from being gored by a particularly vicious boar? And now she acted as though Danielle was odd for wanting something other than a noble marriage. Hypocrisy at its finest.

Christophe was no help either. He had his nose shoved so far into a book that he hardly noticed anyone at all; say nothing for the increasingly silly women mother pushed in front of him. If he had done his duty as the heir and married that Prosper girl three months ago, perhaps mother would not be so desperate. Such a prospect was unlikely to ever come his way again. Sure, the girl was ugly as all _Thedas_ and dumb as a box of rocks, but still…a _Prosper_! Christophe had spoken three words to her and promptly declared her dull-leaving poor Mother in near panic.

A snapping of twigs to her left broke Danielle's train of thought.

_Human_. A sound too clean for a boar or a bear, or even a stag. These were her family's private woods, no one but family members and her knights were supposed to be in this part of the forest-which only left one option-bandits. She hid as quickly as she could, shimming up into the nearest tree and trying to get lost amongst the branches.

"Someone's out here." The voice was pitched low, shockingly female and distinctly _not_ Orlesian. Danielle held her breath as the others passed below her hiding spot.

There were quite a few of them-eleven by her count. They were most defiantly bandits; they were dressed in mismatched clothing and none of them looked as though they had bathed in months. They were also very heavily armed.

A woman with stringy dark hair and a blue bandanna wrapped around her head led them. She moved like a cat, Danielle thought as she watched the woman slink around the small clearing below from her hiding spot.

_The Raven!_ She thought. The defender of the People. The Bane of Serault. The Raven was Antivan or Ferelden, no one was certain. She and her merry band of miscreants had appeared in Serault six years ago, after the Fifth Blight ended in 9:31 and had made the forests surrounding Serault their home. They robbed from the rich to feed the poor (though they robbed more from the rich then they gave to the poor). The people loved her and Mother had bent over backwards trying to put a stop to her antics. Danielle thought her cause romantic, her brother did not agree.

She had always wanted to see the Raven, she thought, as she studied the woman from her perch. When she had been a child, she had dreamed of running away from the Chateau and joining the bands of roaming pirates that always seemed to stop by the Serault docks. Christophe had always been an unwilling participant in her games of pirates and citizens, but their father had always insisted that Christophe play with her.

"Go on Christophe, you will not be a child for long." She remembered her father chiding her brother, "There will be plenty of time for serious matters when you're older. For now, go play with your sister."

The Raven had arrived the summer she turned sixteen, just when her passion for hunting had become apparent. When her father passed two years later and her Mother had begun forcing her to attend society dinners and balls she had considered running off to find the band of adventurers. If it hadn't been for her brother, Danielle liked to imagine that she would have done.

The Raven glanced around the clearing once more. Her eyes never rose to where Danielle was perching quietly.

"Let's go men. I feel as though someone is watching us."

And then they were gone.

Danielle waited for at least a quarter of an hour before shimming down the tree and dashing back towards the path that led back to the Chateau. No sooner had she stepped foot on the path then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around Danielle came face to face with the Raven and all of her villainous looking bandits.

"Well, well." The Raven crooned chuckling as Danielle stumbled back a few paces. "What do we have here?"


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearly nine when Christophe finally emerged from his quarters. The Chateau was already awake and bustling with activity. The Great Hunt was one of the grandest events in Serault, and Mother was a stickler for appearances. Though the peasants were starving in their fields, nothing would put Mother off a good party.

Christophe made his way down into the main hall. Predictably, his mother was already there, standing in the middle of the room and barking orders to the scurrying servants. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head and she wore no mask-a rarity for her.

"Watch how you hold that sculpture." She snapped at a terrified looking serving girl as Christophe approached, "That was given to us by the late Emperor! If you smash it-it's your head!"

The poor girl shrieked and tried to get a better grip on the small statue she was carrying. Christophe watched her practically run from his Mother.

"Was that entirely necessary Mother?" he asked as he watched the girl flee.

"Christophe." His mother ignored his question as she turned to him, "I have arranged for you to ride with Baron de Vere. He will be able to steady your horse if it bucks unexpectedly again." She could not keep the condensation out of her tone.

Christophe flushed. His last hunt had been by no means successful, and the memory still caused a flush to creep up his face.

"Where is your sister?" His mother asked, turning away from her son without a backwards glance, "I have arranged for the Trevelyan heir from Ostwick to participate in the Hunt. It will not do for Danielle to be late."

"I have no idea." Christophe answered. He didn't know why his mother persisted in acting like he and his younger sister were close. They were as different from one another as night and day. Danielle would actually enjoy the Great Hunt, if mother would only let her participate.

His mother huffed as she busied herself with a pile of silk curtains, "If she is late for the Hunt brunch, she will know my wrath! It took nearly all connections we have left in the Free Marches to arrange for the Trevelyan child to come. If my daughter must be wed to a backwoods noble, I want to make a good first impression." She sniffed, "I want to remind him of how lucky he is to marry into a family such as ours."

Christophe was quite proud of himself when he managed to hold back his derisive snort. They were lucky that the eldest son of the Baan of Ostwick had agreed to marry Danielle. Serault was not what it once had been, no matter what his mother pretended. They had to be satisfied with what they could get.

At that moment, an attendant burst into the hall.

"Madame Marquis!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees.

"What is it?" his mother snapped, irritated by the unexpected interruption.

"It's the Lady Danielle." The attendant gasped, "The Raven has taken her!"

The hall went suddenly silent. All eyes seemed to be on Christophe and his mother.

His mother froze, becoming so still that Christophe began to wonder if she had heard the messenger at all.

"And how, exactly, did that happen?" his mother hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

The messenger gulped, "We-we don't…know madam." The poor man looked downright terrified. The Marquis of Serault was not known for her pleasant demeanor or forgiving temper.

"And why would that be? Did I not spend coffers to ensure that my daughter was watched at _all times_?"

Christophe rolled his eyes- his mother was off her head if she had thought a few guards would deter his sister from escaping into the forest. There was no doubt in his mind that Danielle had gotten herself into the situation she now found herself in. There was also nothing he could do to help. The Raven was a notorious nuisance to the nobility in the area. She would release Danielle, most likely unharmed, when she chose to do so and not a minute before. It looked like the social gathering Mother had been envisioning was slowly unraveling.

Christophe wandered off towards the kitchens with a sigh, clocking a rabbit upside the head that dared look at him crossly as he walked over the freshly polished floors. He would have to cooks make him some proper breakfast, and then retire to his study. Most likely, his mother would have her hands full with Danielle for the rest of the day. His encounter with the countess was looking less and less likely.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Outlaw is elusive, but a message delivered into the right hands will find its way to her..._

Danielle struggled with the ropes that bound her wrists. Usually she was quite adept at getting out of bindings, but the Raven and her men had been thorough. She was not going to be able to get out of these on her own. She had known that for a while. But she kept on struggling, moving her wrists back and forth, because something in her would not quit.

Her father used to say that to her. "Danielle, my child, you don't know when to quit. It is imperative to know when you are beat."

But unlike many other lessons her father had taught her, Danielle had never quite gotten the concept of quitting. So there she was, hogtied in the forest, rubbing her wrists against her bindings.

The Raven and her men were camped a few meters away. They had fed her and given her a blanket to lie on. Other than that, they had left her alone. They seemed uninterested in tormenting her, a fact for which Danielle was secretly grateful. Her captivity would be so much more unbearable if she had to contend with torture. Danielle had never been tortured, but she had gathered that it was very unpleasant.

A rowdy song went up from the men surrounding the main fire. The sky was dark. Danielle leaned against one of the crates she had been placed between. She watched the merry band of outlaws, now seemingly trading stories of their exploits around the fire, and thought that they were all rather civilized for a bunch of career criminals.

"Here ya are girly." A matronly looking woman missing her two front teeth smiled down at her from above the crates. In her fat, callused hands she held two, rather warm looking blankets. The woman's accent, like the Raven's, was foreign, and it took Danielle a moment to understand what she was saying.

"Thank you, madam." Danielle said once she'd caught on, inclining her head slightly as her parents had taught her to do in court. There was no reason not to be polite, not when one was in such a precarious situation.

The woman chuckled, "No need to thank me, my dear." She said. With a wave of her hand she was off, back towards the singing men by the fire.

Danielle sighed again and maneuvered herself under one of the blankets. At least she was warm.

Christophe would have been much more sympathetic to the Marquis' plight had she not prodded Danielle into her ill-conceived attempt at freedom with her incessant nagging. She had been forced to cancel the Hunt and turned noble guests away at the door, including Danielle's very eligible fiancé to be. As it was, Christophe was quite content to sit back with a glass of wine and watch the nervous, rabbit-eared servants scuttle after his mother as she stormed around the main hall, shouting at pale-faced guardsmen.

It was really quite amusing.

His mother's usually immaculate blonde hair had come undone from her intricate up do and now hung around her beat-red face. Every few minutes she would lose what little cool she had and whap one of the servants around the head with whatever she happened to be holding.

"Really, mother? Hysterical over a postponed party?" Christophe drawled, sipping his wine. He turned the page of the book he was pretending to read for effect. His mother turned on him.

"How dare you! You ungrateful little rat! The whole Hunt had been postponed!"

"We are hardly ruined, Mother." Christophe sighed, turning another page, "Our reputation was destroyed years ago…there were no high expectations for us."

Her hand moved too quickly for him to block it. Christophe jerked back in his chair and stared up at his mother, rubbing his bruised cheek as he did so.

"Resorting to physical violence now, Mother?" Christophe snorted, "How _common_."

And, book in hand, the Heir of Serault swept from the hall and up to his room with as much grace as could be expected.

"The Raven, I presume?" the deep Free Marches baritone woke Danielle with a start. At first, she was confused by her surroundings, but, as she glanced around the still campsite in the misty light of early morning, the details of her current predicament came rushing back to her.

She struggled a moment with her bound hands, but managed to prop herself up enough to see over the crates. A tall man with tanned skin that hinted at his northern origin stood in front of her kidnapper, dressed in noble finery. He was flanked by two of his guardsmen who looked even more weary then the noble man, if possible. The Raven seemed relaxed, though not one of her dozen men were in sight.

"You received my message then, Lord Trevelyan?" the Raven asked, sauntering up to the noble man with entirely too much confidence for a criminal.

"I did." The man replied, his forehead creasing as her studied the woman before him, "I must say, such a message was most unusual."

"Yes, well, I do like to keep things interesting." The Raven winked. She glanced over to where Danielle was peering over the crates, "Ah, I see our pretty little captive has awoken. Never fear, love," she patted Danielle on the head, "Your rescue has arrived."

The nobleman frowned, "What is the meaning of this?"

The Raven tossed her head, "Every once in a while I get it in my head to send a message to my dear Marquis. The girl here isn't of a bad sort, but you'll find she's quite missed up at the Chateau."

"Of that I have no doubt." The nobleman said, "But what is to stop me from arresting you now for kidnapping, on the authority of the Noble House of Serault?"

The trees seemed to whistle ominously at that. The Raven smiled, "Oh my dear Marquis," the Raven said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Thankfully, the man was not Orlesian.


End file.
